Be-Booked--Don't forget to bring a chicken!

At the end of June, I took a side trip from exploring words in Be-Worded to exploring books in Be-Booked. (See “Be-Booked—Beyond Katrina” 30 June 2013.) In this blog entry, I will make another foray into the land of Be-Booked.

From the time I learned to read, I have been a voracious reader.  Somewhere in the clutter of my home, I have a certificate from 2^nd grade testifying that I read an enormous number of books during that school year.  I hold dear that proud car trip home from the public library during which I read all of the books I had checked out—a reading rite of passage, graduating from children’s literature to young adult literature.  During a spat with my best friend Charlene during high school, she accused me of using too many big words (because I read all of the time).

One book that I still hold dear to me--and the only one I still possess from my childhood—is Eleanor Cameron’s The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet.  My parents bought it as part of one of many Scholastic Book orders in my 6^th grade year—1968. The cover price is 50 cents. I have kept the brittle book in a plastic zipper baggie for many years now.

Originally copyrighted in 1954, the book presents a stereotypical family where Dad, a medical doctor, goes to work and Mom keeps house.  Young David, an only child, discovers an ad in the newspaper one bored night:  “Wanted: A small spaceship about eight feet long, built by a boy, or by two boys, between the ages of eight and eleven.”  The ad gives further details regarding specs and contact information.  Of course, young David is immediately enthralled.  Dad takes an adamantly skeptical attitude while Mom gently encourages young David to follow his dream.

David enlists the help of his best friend, Chuck.  They make contact with Mr. Bass, who needs a spaceship and boys to fly to his home planet, the Mushroom Planet, and save his people, the Mushroom People, from some strange plague which is killing their race.  At the last moment before David and Chuck blast off, Mr. Bass informs them that it is imperative that they take a mascot.  The frantic boys grab Mrs. Pennyfeather, a hapless hen.  I will not reveal the finer details, but Mrs. Pennyfeather comes through in true chicken form and saves the Mushroom People without sacrificing her chicken self to a deep fat fryer.

This book represents imagination and hopes and dreams and making the best with what you have at hand.  I will end this blog entry with the literary lesson:  Wherever you go in life, do not forget to bring a chicken.

Bronck's cheer

Back in the winter, on one of our Sunday drives, Richard and I headed south on route 9W.  About 20 miles south of Albany in Coxsackie, we passed a sign for the Bronck House and Museum, which was closed for the season.  I made a mental note that this destination would be good for a “Meme Day,” when I have my two grandsons for the day, in the summer.  That day happened this past Friday.

When I told 8-year-old Charley that we were going to the Bronck House, he made a connection between the Bronck family and the Bronx.  At first, I was skeptical, but as it turns out, his guess is correct.  According to “The Bronx in Brief” on the Bronx County Historical Society web site, the Swedish sailor Jonas Bronck and his wife, Teuntje Joriaens were the first European settlers at what became “New Amsterdam,” and later New York City, in 1639.  Sadly, Jonas died leaving no heirs, only a settlement, which ultimately became the Bronx due to vagaries of spelling.  But his name also gave rise to the ignominious Bronx cheer.

Bronck’s younger, poorer cousin, Pieter, and his wife Hilletje Jans, however, carried the Bronck name farther north, settling in the mid-1650’s at Beverwijck, now known as Albany.  In the 1663 the couple made their way down to Coxsackie, building what is now the oldest surviving house in Upstate New York.

As I considered this interesting but mundane historical information, I wondered why the infamous Bronx cheer originated in the Bronx.  The Bronx has developed a reputation as a hard-scrabble place.  Between 1900 and 1930 the population of Jonas Bronck’s namesake grew from 201,000 to 1,265,000—quite the dramatic increase.  In addition, at the turn of the 20^th century, the Bronx was a population destination for Italian immigrants.  The Chambers Slang Dictionary supplies two definitions for “Bronx cheer.”  As a noun, a Bronx cheer comes from “the uncouth manners of the Bronx, New York” and means “a loud, derisive noise, imitative of a fart.”  As a verb, a Bronx cheer means “to make a loud derisive noise, as if breaking wind.”

In my researches, I found three possible theories of origin for the Bronx cheer, which first appeared in 1929.  According to Michael Rudeen on examiner.com, the Henry Holt Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins offers that perhaps the word comes from the Spanish “branca,” meaning a rude shout.  (I also found “branca” as an Italian word, meaning “branch,” as in branch of medicine or “grip” or “clutches.”)  A second theory holds that the Bronx shout originated in the National Theatre in the Bronx with unhappy patrons of the theatre.  Finally, probably the most widely accepted theory holds that the Bronx cheer originated with unhappy baseball fans in Yankee Stadium.

Regardless, I found it fascinating that Upstate New York has its own little slice of “the Bronx” 20 miles south near Coxsackie.  I also wonder what the Swedish sailor Jonas Bronck, father of the Bronx, would think if he knew the rude association with his family name.

As an added note, the question arises of how the Bronx cheer became known as a “raspberry.”  Supposedly, that term came from Cockney rhyming slang, in which “raspberry tart” rhymes with “fart.”

Re-un-be-fuddled

As the summer vacation season winds down, we have had many different people of various ages coming, staying, and going both at home in Delmar and at the cottage at Schroon Lake.  A certain amount of befuddlement—confusion or perplexity—has ensued.  However, in the social interactions with friends and family, a certain amount of fuddling—drinking or tippling—has followed.

In a previous blog, I wrote about how affixes—prefixes or suffixes—can change the meaning of a root word.  Sometimes, we are so familiar with the root word and its prefix that we do not realize that the root word is really a word in itself.  (See “Be clement or make like a tree!” on 18 May 2013.)

Most of us know the word “befuddle” as defined above.  Few of us probably know the word “fuddle,” which the American Heritage College Dictionary defines as meaning, “to put into a state of confusion; befuddle,” but also meaning, “to make drunk” or “to drink; tipple.”  The Oxford English Dictionary, however, focuses on definitions of “fuddle” relating to drinking and intoxication.  Evidently, sober confusion, or fuddlement, is a somewhat modern meaning for the word.

The OED lists some fun phrases (fun frases or phun phrases) for “fuddle.”  When people go out drinking, they are “on the fuddle.”  Perhaps, imbibers at a Phish concert would be phuddling!  After while on the fuddle, if one is not careful, perhaps one will “fuddle one’s cap or nose,” meaning get drunk.

A few interesting tidbits I picked up while attempting to become unbefuddled include the word “fud,” which means “the backside or buttocks.”  Perhaps, the Gawain poet might have edited out a line such as, “After fuddling fairly he fell on his fud” from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Also, a “fudder” is “a tun of wine.”  In preparing for a festive occasion, one might purchase a fudder for fuddling.

I will end with some Public Service Announcements to clear up any befuddlement which might have occurred while reading this blog entry.  Please fuddle responsibly.  Do not drive while fuddled.  If you are on the fuddle, make sure to have a designated unfuddler.  Hopefully, none of this information will drive you to fuddle.  Now I am going to get up off my fud and go take a swim!  No, I think I will kayak.  No, wait, I think I will take a hike.  Oh, I am so befuddled!

Let's go a-suppering!

Returning from a three-day family reunion at Percy Quin State Park in southern Mississippi has given me pause to cogitate upon the important aspects of life, specifically food and the social aspect of sharing food.  My father at supper—our evening meal (as opposed to dinner, the afternoon meal)--used to cause my mother great agitation when musing upon the next day’s menu before we had completely enjoyed the current supper. These days, we tend to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but what has happened to supper?  I pulled out my trusty OED to investigate the distinctions between lunch and dinner as the afternoon meal, as opposed to dinner and supper as the evening meal.

As mentioned above, growing up in the South, we ate dinner at midday and supper at night.  The OED defines “dinner” as “the chief meal of the day,” eaten by most at midday, with examples going back to the 13^th century.  As centuries passed, the “professional and fashionable classes” began to eat “dinner in the evening.”  “Dinner” took on the additional meaning of a “formally arranged meal of various courses” or a public meal to honor someone.  This past Sunday, the Baptist church we attended at the reunion kicked off their Revival with “dinner on the grounds,” a potluck meal served after the morning service.  However, when my husband retired this past December, his colleagues feted him with a “retirement dinner,” formally arranged and held at night at a local restaurant.

The OED defines “supper” as “the last meal of the day” and also as “such a meal made the occasion of a social or festive gathering.” (The word comes from the Old French souper.)  However, in recent years, I do not recall hearing of occasions such as a “retirement supper.”  Please feel free to weigh in with recent instances of festive occasion suppers!  The first example which the OED gives comes from the 13^th century and references the “passion of our Lord.”  The second definition for “supper” which the OED gives specifically refers to “the Last Supper,” the last meal of Jesus which also involved the establishment of the Eucharist.  “Supper,” therefore, has Christian connotations to it.

So how does lunch fit into the terminology?  “Lunch” is actually a shortened version of “luncheon,” which originated as referring to a snack of sorts between “breakfast and mid-day dinner.”  The word “lunch” in its early usage was considered “vulgar.”  (See my blog dated 24 March 2013.)  It is also considered a “light meal at any time of day.”

Given all of this information, I still prefer to eat dinner at midday and supper at night.  The OED does define “suppering” as “the providing or eating of supper; the entertainment of guests at supper,” so I will end this blog entry with this wish:  Sweet suppering!